THE HURRICANE


How the wind howled, and how the rain beat down! Outside the window
of Cora's room, the gutters were flush, and running over with
seething water. In the street below there was a river, along which
bedraggled pedestrians forded their way, envying the patient donkeys
drawing the market venders' carts.

At times the wind rose to a fury that rattled the casements, and
fairly shook the solid structure of the hotel. Then Cora, who, with
Jack, had come up from the breakfast room, clung to her brother, and
a look of fear came into her eyes. Nor were Jack's altogether calm.

"What a storm!" murmured the girl.

The door, leading into the next room, opened, and Bess came out.

"Oh, Cora!" she gasped, putting the last touches to her hair, which
she had arranged in a new Spanish way she had seen, and then, tiring
of it, had gone to her room to put it back in its accustomed form.
"Isn't this just awful!"

"Terrible, I say!" came from Belle, who now entered from her
apartment.

"It certainly does rain," agreed Jack. "Five minutes ago there
wasn't a drop in the street, and now you could float your motor boat
there, if you had it, Cora."